


The Edge

by thebaddestwolf



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, jeff x annie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwolf/pseuds/thebaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Annie goes during Britta's party. Spoilers (kinda) for 6.05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic that doesn't somehow involve Billie Piper's face ahhhhh o.O

When Jeff finally comes home from Britta’s party he finds Annie curled up on his couch, hugging a pillow to her chest. 

He squints and reaches above him to confirm that the spare key he keeps above the doorframe is, in fact, missing. He wonders how she even knew it was there, how she even reached it, but then remembers this is Annie he’s dealing with. No detail is above her scrutiny, no challenge above her determination.

Sighing, he steps inside, ready to lecture her on the finer points of breaking and entering, when she makes a soft sort of sigh and nestles deeper into the cushion. 

Only Annie Edison could break into an apartment, make herself at home, and proceed to fall fast asleep. 

Jeff can’t help but roll his eyes at himself as he covers her with a blanket and settles down next to her. He rests his hand on her ankle and tries to focus on the TV show she’d put on – some reality show featuring women with cartoonish lip injections and cringe-worthy vocal fry – until he can’t take it anymore and switches to the ball game. 

“Hey, why’d you change it?”

Her voice is muffled by the pillow. Jeff squeezes her calf. 

“Hey, why are you in my apartment?”

He watches a smile flash across her face as she stretches and drapes her legs over his lap. She doesn’t open her eyes. 

“I’m proving a point.”

“Okaaay.” He pauses, waits for her to elaborate, and when she doesn’t he huffs. “Well, then maybe I should prove a point about invasions of privacy by reporting your act of larceny to the police.”

“Jeff!” She pouts, eyes finally fluttering open. “You wouldn’t. And larceny? Please, I haven’t stolen anything.”

“Sure you have.” He smirks and nods toward the TV. “You’re using my electricity.”

She sits up and rubs her eyes. 

“Whatever, Thomas Edison.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make sense.”

“Wow, you’re grumpy when you wake up.”

Annie scoffs and curls her legs beneath her, then rests her cheek on Jeff’s shoulder.

“Shut up. Am not.”

He shakes his head and slouches back against the sofa, wrapping his arm around her and dragging her with him. He tries to focus on the game on TV and totally isn’t paying more attention to the feel of her pressed up against him, the warmth of her breath on his neck. 

“Jeff,” she says quietly, fingering the throw still covering her lap.

“Hmm?”

“Did you… did you cover me with a blanket?”

Jeff shifts and clears his throat.

“What? No.”

“Oh my god, you did!” She’s beaming up with him, eyes wide, and, oh god, this can’t be good. “I can’t believe you – acting all mad that I let myself in to your apartment, with a key that even an idiot could find, I might add – and it turns out that you found me sleeping and thought I might be cold.”

He scowls and stammers, trying to think up an excuse while wondering why he needs one, exactly. He cares about her – something he’s proven time and again – something he’s  _told_  her, in fact. And yet here she is, in his arms and face inches from his own, and still his instinct is to deny, deny, deny. 

“Jeff.” Her voice is soft and he gulps. “You tucked me in.”

And maybe it’s the beer he drank at Britta’s party, or maybe it’s the playful glint in Annie’s eyes, or maybe he’s just so fucking tired of holding back. Whatever the reason, Jeff leans in close, resting his forehead against hers. 

She gasps and his chest swells.

“You’re dangerous, Annie. You know that?”

She slides her hands up his body and loops her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her.

“I know,” she whispers. “I think someone told me that once before.”

He kisses her slowly, lips gliding over hers with a soft pressure. It’s agonizing and intoxicating and he keeps the pace slow until she makes this little, desperate sound at the back of her throat. Any remaining restraint he has shatters, then, and he throws caution to the wind and kisses her more deeply, the way he’s wanted to all these years. 

The next morning they wake tangled up together and Annie squeals as he pulls the duvet over their heads. She’s dangerous, she always has been, and Jeff Winger is looking forward to living life on the edge.


End file.
